


The Cat that Walked by Himself

by SevenCorvus



Series: Kink Bingo (2013) [3]
Category: Highlander: The Series
Genre: Character Study, Community: kink_bingo, Established Relationship, Fluff, Foot Fetish, M/M, One Shot, Prompt Fic, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-01
Updated: 2013-11-01
Packaged: 2017-12-31 03:17:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1026621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SevenCorvus/pseuds/SevenCorvus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Methos often reminded him of a cat. The older man could lash out with verbal claws or keep unobtrusively to the shadows, only to sidle up when he wanted something or was in the mood. He could be terribly lazy, only helping when asked but always with the attitude that he was doing it of his own initiative. Duncan thought he was most like a cat though in these moments.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Cat that Walked by Himself

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the "foot/shoe fetish" square at [kink bingo](http://kink-bingo.dreamwidth.org/) and inspired by [this](http://31.media.tumblr.com/2faf1e426ae78dadfb1d1b4b5d6620b5/tumblr_mvkb98Zgid1rqheooo1_1280.jpg). Beena, thanks for taking a look at this. Feedback is love and will be rewarded with cookies (and smut).

Methos often reminded him of a cat. The older man could lash out with verbal claws or keep unobtrusively to the shadows, only to sidle up when he wanted something or was in the mood. He could be terribly lazy, only helping when asked but always with the attitude that he was doing it of his own initiative. Duncan thought he was most like a cat though in these moments. 

They had just sat down on his couch with a beer after a friendly spar, when Methos propped his bare feet on Duncan’s lap. After the Highlander made no move to respond, the oldest immortal flexed his feet impatiently like a cat asking to be pet. Grinning to himself, Duncan complied, grasping Methos’ left foot with both hands and rubbing gently to warm it up. He pressed his thumbs against the sole and swept up, massaging tension out of the ball of the foot, and stroking soothingly across the tendons.

Duncan might never admit it, but he loved doing this for Methos, loved giving him this simple pleasure. Methos wasn’t the type to come to him with his troubles, or seek comfort for his nightmares, but he let him do this, let Duncan take care of him in this way. It was important to Duncan to feel like he was looking after his friends, his clan, though they often didn’t let him. Of course it was more than that with Methos.

It was easy for him to express his devotion to Duncan, much harder for him to receive it. It wasn’t so much that he was insecure about his looks or his place in the Highlander’s life, but that Methos didn’t feel he deserved it. So any little opportunity to shower Methos with affection was something to be savored. Not to mention that Duncan might have had a slight thing for Methos’ feet.

His bare feet were a chink in the oldest immortal’s armor, a visible vulnerability. For a man who kept himself covered in sweaters, it was a tantalizing bit of skin. Duncan couldn’t help but want to touch, to taste, to feel that soft pale skin, the veins raised close to the surface. 

He loved seeing the way Methos slowly melted back against the couch, the relaxation in his muscles slowly spreading up his body. Duncan loved the way he would sprawl trustingly, letting himself be open, letting the younger immortal worship those strong feet, that kept him standing and fighting when anyone else would have given up, that held him in place and kept him running from Duncan, when every instinct screamed at him to do so.

Methos might have caught his attention when he first offered Duncan his neck, but it was the sight of those bare feet that made him happy. Even though the oldest immortal never said anything, no promise or assurance, could ever mean more than knowing he was comfortable with Duncan touching him in this way. That he felt sure enough of Duncan’s feelings to demand such a thing.

Methos might still be the cat that walked by himself, might be fickle, or go where and when he pleased, but he was also content in Duncan’s presence, and wherever those feet might take him wandering, they always brought him right back home where he belonged.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm on tumblr also as sevencorvus for anyone interested. My [ask](http://sevencorvus.tumblr.com/ask) is always open to fic/art prompts or anything else.


End file.
